


Just another face

by IAmNotOneOfThem



Series: Blonde hair, muscles, scars, and I've been told he has blue eyes [2]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bullet wound, Face blindness, M/M, Prosopagnosia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotOneOfThem/pseuds/IAmNotOneOfThem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>(Continuation of "Of cologne, alcohol and why the hell aren't you wearing a suit today?")</i>
</p><p> </p><p>One time Q didn't recognise James, and the one time it nearly cost the agent's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just another face

"There is a door to your left, go through it and then to your right."

Bond said nothing but Q didn't need him to, content enough to watch him do as Q had told him to. He turned to the side and checked the second screen in front of him, catching a glimpse of blonde-ish hair in the darkness of the corridors, and the metallic shining of a gun.

"I don't have any cameras in the next area, double-oh-seven, so don't cut the connection."

 _"My, Q, why would I want to do that?"_ , Bond's voice was audible through the bad audio connection, and Q could practically hear his grin, _"I'd miss hearing your voice."_

Q huffed and turned back to the main screen hanging on the wall, the one all of his minions were staring at currently.

Bond was somewhere in India, trying to get through the weekly market to reach his target, eleminate her and get the flash-drive she had stolen - Q wasn't the only one suffering from a flashback from the event before Skyfall, the one he had not been Q yet, but about to be promoted, the one James nearly died and disappeared for weeks.

James' grip around the gun was tight, strong, and his knuckles were white, and a minion earlier had said his expression was forced blank, and his teeth gritted.

Q had a hard time recognising facial expressions, and had trouble analysing them.

A process normally happening automatically in a human's brain, but not in his. He simply wasn't capable of doing that, this natural recognition and immediate analysation of the face and expression, and while he usually wasn't bothered by it, he had already found out just how troublesome it could be.

He had kissed some random guy on the street, in front of the café he had James had visited later, thinking it was James.

The same height, the same colour of hair, and a suit.

Thinking about it now, Q knew he should have known it because the hair cut had been different, but he hadn't seen James in a month back then, and had been glad to have his boyfriend back safe and secure.

_"Q, where do I go?"_

Q blinked and let his eyes roam over the screens until he found James, leaning against a wall with his glance fixed on a spot opposite to him.

Maybe he was trying to find the camera, Q thought and had to smile, clicking a few times to open a map of the area, then typed a few codes.

"Left, then right. You should be out of there soon enough, just be careful, we don't know what lies behind the market."

_"Where is she heading?"_

Q made a vague gesture at one of his minions and said checked the screens, before pointing at a red-haired woman slowly making her way through the crowds, a face Q didn't recognise, but he just had to trust his minion.

"She's heading west."

_"Are you sure? She could be wearing a wig-"_

"Michael is sure, yes."

Through the camera, Q could see how James pursed his lips for a moment, only to kick a door in and heading through. It was the last part of the building they had access to, the rest of the city was being controlled by the government, and they didn't give the okay to hack into their systems yet.

Q could just do it, but M would have his head, and unlike the one before him, the one smelling of tea and of ink, and not cologne and scotch, he didn't allow Q to run wild as long as it served the purpose.

 _"I'm sorry, Q"_ , James said, the sound of footsteps echoing in the empty corridor in the background, _"I didn't mean to imply anything."_

Q sighed and turned around to glare at a minion looking curiously at his Quartermaster, someone whose traits Q hadn't memorised yet probably, because he had no idea about who it could be, and the man turned and acted busy.

"You didn't imply anything, double-oh-seven. Focus on the mission, please, we cannot loose this flash-drive."

Again, he mentally added with a sigh, sipping at his tea.

_"Have a bit confidence in me, Q, one might think you don't trust me."_

"That's because I don't, double-oh-seven, not with technology." Q sipped at his tea, seeing that James was about to reach out and open the door leading to the market outside. "You'll be on your own for a moment, until we've found a connection strong enough to access."

James nodded and opened the door, and with a few steps he was out of Q's range, the cameras showing empty corridors, and a few corpses James had left on his way out.

"I want to have a signal in the next three minutes, we can't risk our agent!", Q exclaimed loudly and turned, his back against the desk and his eyes fixed on the group of strangers, hoping that he would recognise some at least.

There was Michael, with his short hair and the black-ish skin, and there was Claire, with her skirt and the smile.

One day he would surely remember all of their traits, and then he would recognise every single one, but he was not sure about when and how.

His memory was extraordinary, yet not inhuman and perfect. He still had troubles recognising his own mother's voice, when she called.

The minions around him began to type and hack, and Q settled back as he watched them, fingers curling around the handle of his mug. The tea had gone cold by now, just like the cup, but he couldn't be arsed to care about it when his partner was out there, in danger and after a dangerous femme fatale.

"Sir, I found a security camera we can access", a minion - deep, rich voice, Scottish accent, Cody? - said and dragged Q out of his thoughts, and with a wave of Q's hand he put the video feed on the big screen.

"Zoom in."

The market of the city Bond was in, a name Q couldn't be bothered to memorise nor say out aloud, filled with people of all colours and castes, some wearing headscarves, some hiding their faces under hoodies, and thin fabric, colourful and beautiful.

At least a hundred people or more were on the street, walking around from shop to shop, and the noise they got was incredibly loud. Screaming, shouting, some shop owners offering prices and trying to attract customers.

It was close to impossible to find James in this mess of people, animals, dogs, cats and bikes, and it was giving Q a headache as he tried.

_"Q, do you have a visual?"_

"We do, but we can't find you yet", Q mumbled, searching for any sign of somthing familiar.

Crowds, they were horrible. He usually had his problems recognising a person, but in a crowd, in the middle of others, all close to each other, constantly moving and changing their position?

It was just another face, one of many in the sea of people, voices and clothes.

Q felt a sting of worry, and desperation, making his heart beat faster, and his palms become sweaty.

He felt helpless. This wasn't good, no, he couldn't find James and in a situation like that it could mean he could loose him.

That couldn't happen.

 _"Q, I need to know where she is going, I can't see her"_ , James said quietly into the earpiece, his voice echoing through the speakers they had installed a bit earlier.

"Working on it", Q muttered, typing manically, searching, looking, but he couldn't find anything and he typed faster and faster, never letting the camera rest for a moment, searching for the familiar suit, the blonde hair, and searched for a face with scars and blue eyes because apparently James' were blue and he had scars and a few wrinkles, but he couldn't find anything.

Q took a deep breath, reaching out to his mouse, clicking on the other windows to make them pop up, more cameras having been added to the one they had access to.

_"Q-"_

"Working on it."

Q turned around and saw how everyone was staring at him, and with a bit of surprise he realised that he had let his mug fall down, and that his trousers were now soaked with cold tea. There even were shards laying around, some on his lap.

Well, shit.

 _"Q, is everything fine?"_ , James asked, voice worried, _"There was some noise from your line."_

Q took a deep breath and kept his shaking hands still, searching for James in the crowd. He blinked once, twice, licking his lips and tasting blood - he had bitten his lower lip through.

"Q?"

Turning, the Quartermaster looked into... Mary's?... eyes and blinked a few times, wondering what she wanted from him.

Some minions exchanged worried glances, other's were unreadable, and some others were actually doing what they were supposed to do: Working. James was out there in the field, being in danger, and all they could do was staring at Q. He sighed, rubbing his face after taking his glasses off.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you-"

There was a shot, and it came from James' earpiece, and from the cameras they were hacked into.

Q turned around on his seat and searched for a body on the ground, for blood, wounds or James' corpse laying on the ground, twitching and dying and it would be Q's fault, but there was nothing alike that. He couldn't see anything because of this bloody crowd panicking and going wild.

"Double-oh-seven, report."

No reply, and Q felt panic, hot, boiling, piercing and shattering, making him tremble in worry.

"Double-oh-seven, report. Now." Nothing. "Double-oh-seven? James? James, please say something..."

He stood up and walked over to the big screen on the wall, trying to find James' suit or his hair or **anything** , while ignoring how his minions went crazy, typing and shouting and being annoyingly loud.

"James?!"

"There he is!"

Q turned around, seeing Mary point at the screen, directly at a person holding a hand over his shoulder. He has been shot, Q thought, gulping audibly, only because Q hadn't been able to find him.

Only because he hadn't recognised the only person he cared for, the only person he had fallen for and had been happy with in years. Q clutched his hand into a fist and closed his eyes, hardly listening to the attempts to get James out of there alive, with the flash-drive in his bloody hands.

xx

James came back after another week of hunting down the woman calling herself Black Rose, a week after Q had nearly cost his partner's life because of his disability.

He had never thought of it as one before, but there he was, sitting on the roof of MI6's current HQ, staring down at Britain in the night.

The lights blended him, being bright, far too bright for his eyes, but it was bearable and he didn't want to move. His hands lay folded in his lap, a cigarette in one, the lighter in the other hand.

It smelled of smoke, the night, and a clear sky after a storm. Q's clothes still were soaked from that, and part of him had wondered what it would be like, being hit by a lightning.

"You're not blaming yourself, are you? Because if you do, my dear Q, I have to doubt your intellect and your genius-status."

Q blinked and lifted the cigarette to his lips, blowing out the smoke into the grey-ish sky, watching it rise and disappear.

"How's the shoulder?"

"It wasn't even a serious wound, Q. I had worse."

"Yes", Q agreed, titling his head, "But not because of me and my disability."

James sat down next to him, bandage around his shoulder and dressed in loose trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, right back from medical and the compulsive fitness training. He smelled of sweat, and a bit of cologne, and Q resisted the urge to turn and burry his face in his neck to remind himself of his scent again.

"Since when do you call it a disablility?", James asked, taking the cigarette out of Q's hands softly, "It's a quirk."

Q huffed. "Quirks don't cost a life. My **quirk** nearly did."

"I'm alive."

"You could have died."

James was silent for a moment and stood up, and Q figured that he was going away though he heard no footsteps - but then, James was an agent, and he knew how to walk without making any noise - or anything indicating it.

There were hands over his eyes, out of a sudden, and Q blinked.

"How do you know that it's me?"

"Because I know you are the only one except me on the roof?"

"You know me because you memorised everything possible. You could tell the note my voice is in, probably, and play it on a piano. You know my scent, and you know the way I walk. Faces, Q, are nothing but a social norm, a pretty package and box, and you see behind it."

"You nearly died because of me", Q mumbled and closed his eyes, leaning against James' chest with his back, "And it would have been my fault. Only because I don't know your face."

James leant down and kissed Q's head, burrying his face in the curls, and the beautifully soft strands.

"I have blue eyes."

Q sighed. "I know."

"No you don't, but it's fine. They're not as incredible as everyone thinks they are. They didn't memorise my whole body, do they? You know every scar of mine."

Q heard footsteps and opened his eyes, turning around to see James' back disappear in the doorframe, the door being left open. He smiled, and got up.

Blue.

_Blueblueblueblue._


End file.
